


The Sealed Journal

by Itygirl



Category: Naruto
Genre: Drabble, Drama, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, SEALs, Sarcastic Madara, Secrets, love triangle with a twist, noble Mito, not that one sided Madara/Hashirama, silly Hashirama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itygirl/pseuds/Itygirl
Summary: "I loved him first…but my loyalty would always belong to another"- Read the trapped secrets of Uzumaki Mito, forever closed within the pages of her sealed journal. Humans are never simple creatures. MadaraxMitoxHashirama
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito, Uchiha Madara/Uzumaki Mito
Comments: 17
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on historical facts in the Pain and Hope universe. It is however not directly linked to Pain and Hope and can be read as a stand-alone fic.

-Tea-

_When I was 15, I was informed that by the time I am 17, I will be married and sent to another country. I met my future husband that very same day. He was older than me by a few winters, but he had a spark in his eyes that spoke of many battles fought and of many loved ones lost._

_I was the daughter of one of the three Uzushio councilmen and have been taught form cradle the intricacies of politics, etiquette, and restraint among the theories of seals and chakra values. I have always known that I will marry for political reasons, most likely to a Damyio or a village leader that would fancy the exotic notion of having an Uzumaki wife. When Ashina-sama, our esteemed Uzukage, told me that there was interest in my hand in marriage, I held both excitement and apprehension in my heart. What was to wait for me behind the village boundaries? What manner of man will my future husband be?_

_I did not have to wait long to find out… and much more..._

_._

_._

“You have to be perfect today.” Said Mito’s mother as she brushed her long, crimson hair. “Remember, Hashirama-dono and Ashina-sama are entering a crucial understanding. Our clan and the Senju go back from the time of our ancestors.”

“Yes, mother.” Fifteen-year-old Mito knew well of the connections between the Uzumaki and the Senju. She had spent her entire life learning of the world’s clans, of their politics, and the turmoil of war happening outside the safety of her village. But today was the first step of many that she will take in the outside world. Today was the first day of her new life.

They were to meet for the first time at midday, following the preliminary discussions between Ashina-sama and Hashirama, the newly appointed leader of the Senju clan. She waited in the tea room of the main house, exchanging a few words with Ashina-sama’s wife, Shirai.

The woman was much younger than her elderly husband, but for the Uzumaki, that played no role. Their village was the village of longevity, their clan the clan of long lives. What for most would be a lifetime, for the Uzumaki was merely half of it. Ashina-sama himself was in his fiftieth year of life, yet by Uzumaki standards, he was in the springtime of his life. A fact which was evident by the already noticeable baby bump she had.

“How is pregnancy treating you, Shirai-sama?”

Shirai gave the young girl a kind smile as she stroked her belly. “Ah Mito-chan, after five children, pregnancy no longer holds any surprises.”

Mito giggled girlishly, yet when the door of the tea room slid open, she straightened immediately, years of etiquette lessons snapping her to attention. His back was straight, her large eyes pointed to the floor. With the corner of her eye, she saw Shirai retreat through a side door. Once she heard the footsteps of the guests, she made a deep, formal bow and spoke in an even, pleasant tone.

“We are honored to welcome you to our village and home, Senju-dono.” And waited.

“Ah… ahem.” Was the answer that greeted her, and Mito had to use all her sense of restraint to keep her bow. “Don’t forget my companion.”

At that, she could not take it anymore, her curiosity eating away any type of restraint. And as she looked up, she saw the room’s occupants. The man with long, chocolate-colored hair and strong chiseled jaw could only be Senju Hashirama. Even if his looks were not a clear indication of his heritage, the bandana tied around his forehead was a dead giveaway. He was handsome, strikingly so, with warm eyes and a kind smile.

That is when her eyes traveled to the man sitting one step behind Hashirama and looking as if the room had done him personal harm. He was tall, maybe even taller than Hashirama himself, with long midnight black hair that seemed chopped around the edges as if he could not care less how his hair looked like. And where Hashirama was all broad chinned and strong-jawed, this man was made of sharp angles and high cheekbones. And yet the most striking thing about him was his eyes, as dark as tar and as hard as diamond. One look at him, and Mito already knew of his allegiance, though she was definitely surprised to have such a man here.

“My deepest apologies Uchiha-dono, I had not known that you will come as well.”

Uchiha Madara turned to look at the slip of a girl from the corner of his eye. He hated these frivolous encounters, and right now, he despised Hashirama for dragging him into it. Sure, the meeting with the Uzukage was interesting to say the least, but this... Why did he have to be there when Hashirama chatted away with his silly future wife? She most likely had nothing to say anyway and was being catered away as a means to seal the deal. Yes, such things made him think that he would never, ever take a wife. Women were nothing but distractions in the way of one’s goals. And now that peace had been made, he and Hashirama had a purpose. They had a village to build. A silly useless wife would only be a hindrance.

So he scowled at the girl, because she was nothing more than a girl, and answered in a dismissive tone. “Let’s get on with this Hashirama, there are more important things to do.” 

Mito bristled at the man’s answer, though she did not show it. She was raised better than that. She was raised with proper etiquette and restraint, and that restraint will not be snapped by one man’s rudeness. Little did Mito know that her patience and self-control would be put to a dire test that day.

“I take it that the discussions have been fortuitous.” Said Mito as she meticulously began the long and highly traditional tea ceremony.

Hashirama’s voice boomed in the quiet room. “Oh yeah! Ashina is one tough cookie, but I bet that he liked our proposition. What do you say, Madara?”

Madara nodded and answered with a muted ‘yes’ in response, knowing to respect the traditional silent and subdued atmosphere of a typical tea ceremony. He instead opted to follow the girl’s graceful, soothing movements, flowing like water over the utensils. He could see the small frown on the corner of her mouth and smirked as its source once more spoke louder than he should have.

“What did ya say? Oh well, I’m sure all will be good. Nice village you’re having here… ummm….” Hashirama suddenly blushed, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish gesture.

Madara felt the need to slap his forehead, or at least roll his eyes at his friend’s pitiful display. No wonder he had to go into an arranged marriage; on his own, he would have no chance. With another look at the girl, he could see that her future husband’s mishap had struck a nerve.

As she answered, her voice was a tad strained. “Mito, Hashirama-dono.” Not by much, but if one had an ear for details, it was noticeable.

Luckily Hashirama did not notice such a detail. Instead, he laughed it off and, feeling suddenly in need of stuffing his face with something, anything so that he won’t talk again, he grabbed one of the rice cakes from the table and started eating.

Mito felt like she was going to have a heart attack, her hands freezing mid-motion as she heard the crunch of the Rakugan being devoured in one sit. What was thins man? Had he been raised under a rock or something?? Was this…this uncouth, loud man to be her husband? When he spoke again, she swore she will kill him.

“Those were good!” said Hashirama mid-chew. “Got any more?”

That was it. Madara could not stand him digging his hole deeper and deeper. Maybe, Hashirama knew why he insisted that he come to this meeting. The poor man was in over his head. Well, it was his fault really for wanting to marry one of high birth. If someone were to ask Madara himself, he thought Hashirama would have done better with one of the soldiers, a girl that would understand his quirks and find them charming. Because so far, the current intended looked like she would soon pop a vein. His friend was definitely doomed.

So with a sigh, Madara leaned over and plucked the plate out of his hands as he spoke in a leveled tone. “These are Rakugan. You’re supposed to eat only one with the tea.”

Hashirama froze, the color flooding his entire face as he slowly placed the plate on the floor. He made sure from then on to not utter a single word, and as Mito finally finished the tea ceremony and gave each of them and ornate cup, she tossed a grateful look in Madara’s direction. He bent his head, acknowledging her thanks, though he felt it was not needed. He had learned the importance of a proper tea ceremony from his mother through long hours of meditation and softly recited poems. They did that until death took her.

As the hours dragged by and the cups were emptied, Mito bowed slightly toward her guests, speaking in a leveled tone. “Thank you for joining me today, Hashirama-dono, Uchiha-dono. I wish you a safe voyage back on the mainland and I will count the days until your return.”

Madara smirked at the practiced speech she gave. It almost made him believe that she meant it. Almost. Still, he stood, bowed formally, shoved Hashirama to do the same, and replied in an equally leveled tone. “It was a pleasure, lady Mito.” He turned to leave, but then saw that Hashirama was still standing there, gathering his courage to do or say something.

When Madara saw his friend’s shoulders square in that stubborn way of his, he intervened before it was too late. With one step, he was right behind Hashirama, his right hand buried in his hair as he forcefully pushed his head in a half bow. “My companion is tired, we will retire now.”

As soon as they were out the door, Hashirama turned to him with a hurt look, his eyes brimming with tears. “Why did you do that? I wanted to apologize and make it all better!”

This time Madara did give into the need to facepalm. “Are you out of your mind! I saw what you were thinking of doing! You wanted to grab her hands or something equally stupid!”

“So?”

This was slowly but surely losing its entertaining value. “Were you raised under a rock? You don’t just grab a lady’s hands like that without permission! And definitely not when you have barely met and made a total fool of yourself! Have you forgotten what they say about this clan?”

At his friend’s words, Hashirama deflated like a punctured balloon. “Oh you’re right, I made a complete fool of myself back there! She was all grace and beauty, like some sort of goddess, and I stood there with the manners of a peasant.”

“Actually, you were worse than a peasant.”

“Madara, what will I do? I’m supposed to marry this girl, and I can’t even talk to her without shoving a foot in my mouth.”

Madara rolled his eyes. Really, since when did he become a relationship counselor?

Back in the tea ceremony room, Mito was gnashing her teeth so hard that she thought they might break. She was supposed to marry that-that…. Savage? Tears gathered in her eyes, but she stubbornly pushed them away. She knew that her fate was sealed, and she would have to make the best of it.


	2. Letters

-Letters-

_It took two further years until I was to be married and begin a new life with my husband. During that time, I decided to meditate with Shirai, Ashina-sama’s wife. She taught me much, and I will forever be grateful for her friendship, her words of wisdom and her lessons._

_And at such, a month after the disastrous first meeting, I had decided to stop wallowing in misery at my fate and do something about it. If my future husband was not to my liking, then I will make him so, or so I thought._

_That is when the letters started. I have to give it to my dear Hashirama, he was not that much better in writing as he was in person._

_._

_._

“Mito-sama, a message arrived.” Said one of the house servants with a bow.

Intrigued, Mito grabbed the scroll, looking it over. She had just returned from a meditation session with Shirai-san and was on her way to her sealing class. Among the high ranks of Uzushio, Mito was the most gifted at the clan’s ancient art of sealing. She had begun creating her own seals when she was merely eleven years of age, and four years later, she was a master in her own right and had taken to teaching the younger generations about it. Even now, she was continually gathering chakra in a seal of her own making, storing it in a point on her forehead. Soon she will have it ready.

She dismissed the servant girl and stepped inside her chambers, her kimono shuffling as she glided over the floor. She had recognized the seal on the scroll immediately. It was the Senju family crest. With piqued interest, Mito opened the scroll and scanned its contents.

Scanned and cringed.

_My dearest betrothed,_

_I miss you more with each passing second, and I see your face everywhere. The blood of my enemies reminds me of your crimson hair, the grey of the ashes, making me think of your eyes. And… and… and the song of the rooster that woke me up this morning reminds me of your beautiful voice!_

Her eyebrow twitched. Did he just compare her with a chicken?? How dare he? Who did this guy think he was, and who wrote things like that?? Comparing her hair with blood and… and… And that terrible handwriting! Was he holding the brush with his feet?

It was sufficient to say that she had worked quite the fury at the first lines gracing the scroll. What she also noticed with dread was that the letter went on and on and on for what could only be two meters! What did this man have to say so much??

As it turned out, Hashirama had quite a lot to say. He spoke in detail about his brother, his conflicts with Madara, their latest battles (with quick annotations of swoosh and swoop for sound effects). And he spoke of his dream, his and Madara’s, the vision to build a village unlike any before it, where clans would gather and share knowledge. Where the leader would be chosen based on strength and not blood, where all had a chance to be something.

When she finally finished, Mito had a small smile on her face. It was a good dream, a grand dream that they had. Yet it was just a dream. There had never been a shinobi village composing of more than one clan. It was not done, as interests were bound to clash with one another. And no one wanted to share information about their family or clan. Knowledge was power in their world, and often knowledge of an enemy’s secrets would be more effective than the strongest of jutsu. And yet if they were to succeed in their dream, they would be the first to do so. An adventure as she had only read of, a challenge.

So with a smile and a shake of her head, Mito pulled up a scroll and began writing, her calligraphy impeccable, as all other things she did.

.

.

“Madara!” Hashirama ran toward his friend with a smile that threatened to swallow his entire face. “She wrote to me! She wrote back!”

With a sigh, Madara finished cleaning the last drops of blood and bits of entrails from his sword and took a seat next to a nearby tent. They had been battling a rather stubborn and ridiculously large clan for the last couple of weeks. Once the peace between the Senju and the Uchiha was ensured, came the ‘not as easy as Hashirama thought’ task of making their village dream real. As it turned out, the surrounding clans had no interest in joining up in their village, share their secrets and sing around the camp-fire. So here they were, caught in battle after battle to reign in what they hoped to be future loyal citizens of Konoha.

Hashirama took a seat next to him, and after he rubbed his face clean with a conspicuous-looking rag, he took out two cups from Kami knows where followed by a bottle of shochu. After he gave a cup to Madara, he downed one himself and looked once more at the sealed scroll.

Madara took a sip of his beverage, somehow enjoying the burn of it as it passed down his throat. It was piss-poor quality, but in times like these, it was rather hard to find anything of quality; besides weapons, of course. Still, it dulled the sting of wounds and helped them find the hope that tomorrow, this whole senseless fighting will stop. “Are you going to stare at it the entire day?”

“What if she writes to me to say that she won’t marry me anymore?”

“She would be smart to say that.” He smirked as he saw Hashirama turn blue in terror. It certainly was entertaining to torture him. Much too easy, yet entertaining nonetheless. “Get a grip on yourself. You sealed an agreement with the Uzukage. Even if she were to want to get away from you, she can’t.”

At that, Hashirama calmed down and finally open the scroll. At first, his eyes shone with happiness, and yet the longer he read, the more his face fell. Finally, he shoved the scroll in Madara’s face, a look so bleak that Madara could swear there were storm clouds above his head.

“She hates me.”

Unconvinced, Madara took the scroll and scanned it. Her writing was sublime; each stroke put on paper with purpose and elegance. Yet as smooth and as beautiful as her calligraphy was, her words were like finely pointed daggers. The terms illiterate and subpar were mentioned a couple of times, as well as quotes from Hashirama’s letter, indicating to never call her that again. This time he could not help the chuckle that rose deep in his belly. “You really compared her voice with the song of a rooster? No wonder the girl hates you!”

“B-but I love the way it sings! It reminds me that there is a new day, filled with hope for a new battle and a new future!”

“Are you stupid? This is a high born you are talking to, not some fisher’s daughter. And even the fisher’s daughter would be offended to be compared to a bird that only annoys everyone in the morning and sounds like a high pitched broken record.”

Hashirama looked like he wanted to defend his position once more, but then he lowered his head, the gloom returning full force. “As I said, she hates me.”

As usual, Madara took pity on him in such moments. Really, he looked like a kicked puppy, and those wet brown eyes did not help his image; or his respect for that matter. If someone were to see him now, they would never guess the power-bank that his friend was. Hashirama, the undefeated they called him. Well, next time their enemies should bring a pretty girl along and make sure that she threw a couple of insults his way. “Come now, she says some nice things… like see here: You are a visionary and a brave man. That’s positive. And she wants you to write back, so it’s not that bad.”

.

.

The next couple of months would be like that. Hashirama would send her a long and detailed letter that she would cringe over, and she would write back with corrections and some sparse details of her life in Uzushio.

To Mito, it seemed that Hashirama was the type to learn by doing and repeating what he did a few times before he got it. So it came as no surprise that it took him around three more letters to understand that comparing her with various farm animals was not wise.

But then the day came when a letter arrived, and it was written in another’s hand. She knew Hashirama could not have learned such calligraphy in the past month since he last wrote! The strokes were clearly put on paper by a masculine hand, the style precise, and angled with sharp edges. With piqued interest, she began reading it.

_Esteemed Lady Mito,_

_I fear that your betrothed is indisposed and will be as such for some time. Fear not, he will live, and in the future, he will know to not eat every berry that he sees._

_It has, however, come to my attention that Hashirama regularly sends a letter at this time of the month with the late happenings. I felt that the absence of such a message might cause you grief, and wished to alienate any fear you might have._

Mito smiled, knowing immediately who it was that wrote those lines. Uchiha Madara. He had been well-spoken and polite during their short visit, so it came as no surprise that he would be the same in his letters. Though there was something else she saw in-between the neat brush strokes and cultured words... Was it playfulness, sarcasm maybe? She could only imagine how the interactions between two such different individuals were; undoubtedly interesting.

With a smile on her lips, she turned to look at the rest of the disappointingly short letter. Maybe Hashirama had spoiled her with his long and detailed tales?

_I will not bore you with details of our latest battles, as I am sure there are other things on your mind than which clan has decided to stand up to us this time. However, I can say that we seem to make a breakthrough. The founding of Konoha seems now closer than ever. We will push forward, we will persevere. And maybe when the time comes for you to join us, you will have more to see than a muddy field filled with tents._

_Yours respectfully,_

_Uchiha Madara._

With disappointment in her eyes, Mito looked if maybe there was another scroll if there was more. But that was all, barely one page of spiked, angled strokes. A pitty. She enjoyed his writing, enjoyed the way he put the words on paper. It felt natural to read it like she had to make no effort to understand the words among ink stains and scribbled lines.

Well, she will have to remedy this situation!

With purpose in her eyes, Mito pulled out a small blank scroll and dipped her brush in ink.

.

.

The scroll was delivered to him personally, and as Madara looked at the Uzumaki seal, his eyebrows went up in surprise. Should he give it to Hashirama to read? It was most likely for him… But Hashirama was out with a fever, his body still working to filter out the effects of that half a kilo of poison berries that he stuffed his face with.

And on the other hand, curiosity was scratching on his mind. What did she think of his letter? She was usually pretty vicious with Hashirama, so when he wrote to her, he unconsciously dug up old calligraphy hours from his memory and did his best to make every stroke smooth. And yet… why did he care? When did he care what others thought of him? If the prissy girl wanted to criticize him, then she could do it all she wanted, he would not care!

Finally, curiosity won and Madara retired to his tent to open the letter.

_Dear Sir,_

_I fear that the abbreviated version of the past month’s happenings will not do. If you wish to write in Hashirama’s stead, then you must rise to the expectations._

_Of course, without the mistakes._

_I eagerly await your response._

_Mito_

_PS: Make him drink Plantain tea, and he will get better in a few days._

Madara smirked. The girl had guts; he had to give her that! He wondered if she would be so daring in person, the image of her small frame trying to look intimidating, making him chuckle.

Fine, she wanted a story, he will play along. Hashirama had always spoken of great victories and glided everything with a screen of polished gold. He will give her the truth, and hopefully, it will cure her of the nonsense idea that war was glorious.

.

.

The scroll came a few days later, and it took Mito by surprise. It was not only much larger than the one before but this time, it bore the bold Uchiha seal on it.

She felt giddy, excited that her little petulant ruse had worked! So with quick motions, she opened it and began absorbing that angled spiked script.

It took her almost half an hour to go through it all, and when she finished, she dropped the scroll on the floor by her feet. She had been such a fool, she felt like she could slap herself. She had believed all of Hashirama’s stories because he looked so innocent and seemed so honest. She thought they were winning the war and that the ninja of that region began understanding each other. She believed that in spite of everything she knew, because she wanted it to be true.

But it was not.

If what Madara said was right, then they were losing as many men as the other side, and the clans did not seem to find it in their hearts to ally with neither the Uchiha nor the Senju. They seemed to break through lately, but at this rate, it will only be a capitulation of the weaker clans, not really an alliance. At this rate, they were going to build a village filled with people that were waiting for the best time to murder them in their sleep. They were taking them by force, and it was bound to fire back at them.

She read the scroll once more, looking for some clue, something that could be done. After reading it a second time, Mito brightened up. There, he was saying something about a strange beat creature plaguing the lands and killing shinobi from both sides. If this beast were to be removed as a service done by the Uchiha and Senju clan, then maybe the other shinobi clans will see them as something more than conquerors!

She quickly pulled out a scroll and wrote back, the ideas already forming inside her head. If they agreed to this, she could go ask Ashina-sama if she could make the sealing herself!

Little did she know that her heroic escapade wound be the cornerstone that sealed her fate, and that of another.


	3. Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of those that liked this story so far. It started out as a wild idea in my head and as a (sort of) companion story to Pain and Hope, but it might yet evolve into something new.

_All my life, I was raised to think, know, and believe that I will be cherished for my manners, my appearance and my ability to act flawlessly in any social circumstance. My father was a political councilman and frowned upon the life of a ninja. Sure, he was a sealing scholar in his own right, but he liked to think of the Uzumaki gift as more of a theoretical capability rather than practical._

_I did not mind that. In this world, there are fighters and there are scholars, and in a strategical and political battleground, there was none as sharp as my father. But I was not content with the role he had assigned to me. I always wanted more, and although I had made peace with the idea of being some nobleman’s elegant tea server, I did not like it one bit. I wanted an adventure! I wanted to put my vast knowledge to the test!_

_You can imagine how excited I was when I realized that I was about to get my fill of both._

_._

_._

“Ashina-sama, please, I beg of you!” Mito stood before the Uzukage in a perfect bow, her eyes trained on his tabi socks. “I am more than capable of doing this, and surely my future husband will take care of my safety!”

Uzumaki Ashina looked at the girl before him with a stern face. She was a skilled seal master, despite her young age, but she was still a child… a baby, even in his eyes! At almost sixty years of age, Ashina was in the prime of his life by Uzumaki standards. By comparison, Mito, at her 15 and half years, was nothing but a toddler.

A toddler that was slowly getting on his nerves with her insistence.

“Mito, I have a deep respect for your father, he is a dear friend of mine. And that is the only reason why I have not thrown you out by now. But you have received my answer the last six times you asked! This is too dangerous for you. As much as you are skilled in sealing, you are not a fighter!”

The girl, barely a girl anymore, still not quite yet a woman, straightened her spine, looking at her leader with a solemn gaze. “I understand where your concerns lie, Ashina-sama. But I have a duty to these people, to my future people. What sort of wife will I be if I do not give my all to aid my husband?”

She would not give up; she would not give in! These thoughts gave Mito the courage to stand her ground. A few good seconds passed in a staring match, a battle of wills and stubborn personalities, until Ashina finally sighed.

“A good wife would know her place.” He then dismissed her with a lazy wave of his arm. “You will take Kou with you, as a chaperone.”

“But…”

Ashina’s voice was like thunder. A very exasperated thunder. “In the name of all sacred girl, know your place! You not only want to go there in some foolish adventure, but you also want to go unchaperoned? Have you lost all your senses?”

Mito knew a lost battle when she saw one. So she bowed, swallowing her pride and calling this a win as she graciously accepted to be escorted there by Ashina’s second son, Kou. Honestly now, she had no problem with Kou as a person. He was a perfectly lovely and competent warrior. It was merely the idea that even outside the limits of Uzushio, even if she were off the island, she was not free. Well, in the end, it will be a small price to pay. “I apologize for me outburst Ashina-sama. I would be honored to be escorted by Kou-sama.”

“You leave at daybreak.”

Mito smiled but kept her bow low as they moved back from the room. “Yes, Ashina-sama.”

As soon as she was out the door, her smile turned into a full-blown grin. She was going on an adventure!

.

.

When Madara saw the scout run toward their camp like there was an army at his heels, he knew something had happened. No one ran so fast to bring trivial news. So when the man reached him and did not start talking immediately, Madara’s patience was… tested.

Just the previous day, he received a letter from Mito written in a less than perfect script. In all the months she and Hashirama had corresponded, he had never seen anything less than utter perfection in her strokes. Hashirama, in his complete lack of personal boundaries, was more than happy to share his fiancé’s letters with him. He had claimed that he wanted them to get along, but Madara suspected that he simply did not want him to be left out. Which was… truly beyond him why his friend thought like that. What did he plan, that he will sit there and hold his hand forever? What a silly thought…

But as he had seen her latest letter, Madara could see beyond her words; she claimed she would discuss with the Uzumaki leader about their beast problem, but he could see more than that. It was as if he could read the excitement in her strokes, and it did not bode well. Apparently, the girl was under the impression that she had found the solution to their problem.

From one letter.

And now she was hell-bent on solving that problem for them! At first, he really did not plan to give her words much meaning. After all, he had met Uzumaki Ashina, and he was really not the kind of man who would let a girl like her just prance around all over the land and… solve problems. So he put the issue out of his head, made sure that Hashirama was almost drowning in plantain tea as he planned their next attack.

But slowly, a seed of doubt entered his mind and took root.

What if the little nuisance really did convince the Uzukage? She convinced him to do her bidding, and nobody convinced Uchiha Madara to do anything. So if he had fallen for that, would the stern Uzukage fall as well?

The question did not give him peace, so when he saw the scout, Madara envisioned the worst. The scout’s silence did not help a bit.

“Talk!” he barked, making the man jump.

“Sir, two people have been spotted at about two hours travel distance….”

The man seemed reluctant to say anymore, so Madara felt the need to remind him of who he was talking to. In the blink of an eye, his Sharingan had activated and was glaring menacingly at the slim scout. “And?”

“One of them was a woman, sir, a red-haired woman.”

Something akin to panic came to his mind. “Was?”

“They were attacked, sir, by some of the enemy clans.”

The scout did not even have the time to look surprised. Once second, Uchiha Madara, second in command and right hand of their general, was glaring at him and the next he was… gone.

Madara did not think that he had ever moved so fast in his entire life. Nor did he think that he ever cursed so much. If Hashirama were to hear that this intended had been lured here by the stories he told her in a **personal** letter and thus found her death at the hands of some no-name idiot from the clan, ‘I don’t give a shit,’ his life was forfeit. 

He had no illusions over his friend’s strength. Oh, he envied it, he hated it and admired it at the same time, but he knew for sure that even with the damn Eternal Mangekyou, he could not hope to kill Hashirama. He had tried and failed, owing his life to Hashirama’s stupid honor and friendship he felt for him. Not to be misunderstood, he also had an attachment to the Senju leader, but he was a shinobi who could put his feelings aside as he thought of the bigger picture.

Still, if something were to happen to that pretty slip of a girl, attachment, or no, his head will be on a spike decorating the highest point in Fire country. So with more speed than Madara had ever thought himself to possess, he was approaching Mito’s last known location.

What his Sharingan saw made him skid to a stop and just stare.

She was… fine.

The man by her side was obviously a warrior, his leather armor with the swirling Uzumaki symbols hugging his muscular chest and strong arms.

As for Mito, well, he wasn’t sure the apparition before him was, in fact, the same Mito he had seen all those months ago. Gone were the gentle movements, gone were the demure looks. Before him was a different person, and for a moment, Madara was stunned.

She wore a rather practical kimono, split to the sides to allow for movement, with loose pants underneath and a leather chest armor tightly secured to her waist. It was nothing like the highly formal and elegant kimono she had worn that day. And her hair, it must have come undone in the skirmish for it was now floating in the wind, giving her a wild, untamed look. All in all, Madara was not even sure that this was the same girl!

As Mito turned to him with eyes like daggers, Madara knew that this girl was trouble. He would have to be careful. And in his decision of being cautious, he was just about to turn her around and take her back to Uzushio himself if need be, when the last person he wanted to see came in a cloud of dust and a bellow of noise.

“Mito-chan!!!”

It seemed like Hashirama was finally up and about, running at full speed toward them, his chocolate brown hair billowing behind him.

Mito’s eyes widened at the incoming presence, especially since he showed absolutely no signs of slowing down. Noticing the change in attitude, Kou stepped in front of her, his taller frame and broad shoulders completely hiding her presence.

As he reached them, Hashirama finally stopped, trying to look left and right over Kou’s form at Mito. “Mito-chan, what are you doing here? I dreamt that I saw you, and now you are here! But…” Suddenly he stopped and turned to look at Madara with a severe gaze, his voice losing the enthusiastic tone. “How did you know to find this place?”

For the hundredth time that day, Madara cursed. How much more trouble would this girl bring him? He should have never answered her letter, should have never entered this game, hell he should have never looked her way!

But before he could come up with an explanation to this whole mess, Mito stepped from behind Kou, her features once more schooled and gaze level.

“Hashirama-dono.” She bowed respectfully, her back straight as she bent from the waist. The crimson strands of her loose hair fell over her shoulders, and Mito fought a blush at her state. It was unheard of a lady such as her to be seen in public with her hair undone. It made her feel exposed, improper. But, she reminded herself that she had wanted adventure, and it seemed that a life of adventure was anything but proper.

As she stood, she saw Hashirama flash in front of her and grab her hands, an earnest expression on his face. This time the flush did come to her face, and so did a look of utter mortification.

How could he just… grab her like that?

“Mito-chan…” Hashirama looked over her face, drinking in her features, and marveling at her beauty. She really was something else, and with her hair down like that, she looked so much more approachable. He knew that he shouldn’t have grabbed her hands like that, but his head was swimming and he felt drunk on her presence. Or was he just sick?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his vision turning foggy. Suddenly he didn’t feel so well. His stomach was turning, bile rising in his throat, and with a look of panic, he realized that he was going to be sick.

Maybe he shouldn’t have stood up…

From a few meters away, Madara watched the scene unfold. One moment Hashirama was holding her delicate hands in his calloused ones and surely giving her that puppy eyes look and the next… well, the next thing he knew, Hashirama was down on all fours, vomiting all the tea he drank...

On Mito’s shoes.

Angry was an understatement. Uzumaki Mito was mortified, horrified! She had no words for how she felt, and if it weren’t for the fact that Hashirama seemed to pass out a moment later, she could have sworn that she would kill him with her own hands. Alas, a twinge of worry, penetrated the red hot fury in her veins.

She was grateful when Kou lifted the tall Senju leader from the ground, although she did not care much for his low chuckle. 

Madara approached her with a condescending smirk. Really, it was hard to act all formal when she looked a mess, her face flushed and eyes alight with anger. “Welcome to the camp.”

Mito gave him a withering glare, but it did nothing to dispel that smirk of his.

Was he mocking her?

How dare he?

She came here for… why did she come here? Her thoughts were a jumble, and it was only the months of meditation with Shirai-sama and her absolute self-control that made her lift her head, straighten her back and look the infuriating man in the eye. “I have come here to offer my assistance, Uchiha-dono.”

The use of his clan name, spoken in such a formal tone, reminded Madara loud and clear who she was, and more importantly, who she represented, or rather who she wasn’t. She wasn’t someone to be teased by sarcasm, she wasn’t someone who he should smirk at, and she sure as hell wasn’t someone he should send letters to!

The smirk was instantly wiped from his face, his tar colored eyes hardening. “With all due respect, lady Mito, you should leave.”

“No.”

No? What did she mean by no? “Lady Mito, the camp here is not safe, as you may have already noticed…”

If her spine were to be any straighter, it would have surely snapped. Her grey eyes were as hard as steel, and Madara wondered if the genteel, well-behaved lady he had seen last time was just the social mask she had worn for their sakes. She took one decisive step toward him, passing by him by a hair’s breadth.

“I have come here to offer my assistance with sealing the beast Uchiha-dono, and I shall do what I came for. Have a good day.” And with that, she moved past him, her gait elegant and decisive as she practically glided over the upturned grass and mud of the road.


	4. Strategies

-Strategies-

_I did not believe the horrors of war until I saw it with my own eyes. The songs and stories never speak of the grim truth, coating everything with a thick sheen of gold that has girls go dreamy-eyed and inspires the fighting spirit in young men. But war is cold, merciless, and merciless._

_Someone once told me that war makes beasts of men, twisting their essence into something cruel and misshapen._

_I did not believe it until I saw it with my own eyes._

_._

_._

As evening fell over the camp, the sudden arrival of Lady Uzumaki Mito (and her no less important chaperone) was done, making a buzz. Among battle-weary ninja such news held little importance.

Still, for one person in particular, this news continued to be a problem.

A potentially significant problem.

They were all gathered in the large tent they usually used for meetings. Hashirama had finally come to his senses, and after half an hour of apologies toward his vexed fiancé, they had finally managed to install her in a free tent and call this meeting. Everyone who mattered in the war was present. Hashirama stood at the head of the table, Madara at his right side, Tobirama at his left. Further down, to Madara’s side was Tsuko, the lieutenant of the Uchiha forces, and next to Tobirama stood Touka, the lieutenant of the Senju assault team. On the other side of the table, with her hair now tightly gathered in her signature twin buns was Mito, a determined look on her face. Two steps behind her, with a menacing look and sharp eyes, stood Uzumaki Kou, second son of Uzumaki Ashina and Mito’s temporary chaperone.

“Now that we are all gathered,” began Hashirama, feeling at ease in his role. Somehow, there at the head of the table, he was another person, more confident, serious and capable. “The lady Mito’s traveled a long way to our camp from Uzushio and is here to assist us with the recent rampaging beast problem.”

Madara tensed, his hands balling into fists by his side as Mito gave a triumphant look. He was sure that if she were a different type of person, she would be grinning right now, but this was Uzumaki Mito, always controlled, always poised.

_Except when she looks wild, her hair wiped up by the wind…_

He squashed the thought as soon as it came, focusing once more at his friend’s words. His friend, his good friend!

Still, although Madara held a good deal of reservations regarding Mito’s arrival and offer of help, he managed to keep his mouth shut. Tobirama had no such need for restraint.

“This is a bad idea, brother.”

The look Hashirama sent his younger brother was one that Mito had not thought possible. There, at the head of the war table, her intended was commanding respect and power. He was no longer silly; he was no longer stumbling over his words of actions. He was a ruler, and it radiated from every pore in his body. When he spoke, his voice was clear, commanding.

“Why is that?”

“Allowing Lady Mito to step in for the sealing is beyond dangerous.” He leaned against the large map pinned to the table, pointing to an area of clustered pins. “The beast’s location is right in the middle of the warzone. Our troops are engaged in skirmishes on the right and left flank, but there have been incursions in the southern territories, making passing difficult. We are stretched thin as it is, and have no remaining men left to send a platoon with her.”

Then Tobirama looked at her, his unnerving burgundy eyes measuring her. “No offense Lady Mito, but you are no fighter. Even with your guard, it is not safe to send the one tying our alliance with Uzushio and the Uzumaki in such a dangerous place.”

One look at Hashirama told Mito that he would not let this go so quickly. She savored the idea that he could see the importance this task had to her… and she basked in the feeling that washed over her at his determination to do as she pleased. As she looked at his chiseled face and suddenly stern eyes, Mito thought that maybe, just maybe her future marriage was not such a bad idea and that there was a chance out there for Hashirama in her eyes. After all, any woman out there would be flattered to have such a mighty man fight for her wishes. She will just have to work on his manners… and behavior and calligraphy.

“I will go with her brother, no need to send a whole platoon,” said Hashirama, confidence booming in his voice.

But there was a reason why Tobirama was in charge of the battle strategies. He was a man driven by cold hard logic, and he knew that with Hashirama being sick for so long, the morale of the troops had gone low. One more battle with his older brother absent could mean their defeat. “Absolutely not. You may not realize that since you’ve been in bed for the last two incursions that we had, but the morale has steadily gone down.” He then turned to look at Madara. “No offense Madara, but while you’re a great warrior, you don’t have the…”

“Hashirama flair?” said Madara sardonically.

A dusting of color graced Tobirama’s high cheekbones. With a short cough, he turned back to the issue at hand. “Right… in any case, not having you in battle again would be catastrophic for the morale.”

Mito felt conflicted. From Madara’s earlier letter, she had realized that the war they were waging was by far not as adventurous, victorious, or glorious as Hashirama had painted it to be. But even from Madara’s words, she wouldn’t have realized that they were, in fact, on the verge of losing… On the brink of losing their dream, the very glue that kept these two great clans together. Determination filled her once more. She could not let that happen! And deep inside, Mito was sure that sealing this beast would tip the scales in their favor.

Madara watched the entire proceeding with hooded eyes. He clearly saw the despair written on Hashirama’s face as his brother presented the cold hard facts, and he could see the barely controlled despair and disappointment playing on Mito’s face. For a moment he was convinced that this was none of his business and that he was done with meddling in anything. He wasn’t the meddling type; he sneered down at such people, considering that one should have better things to do than interfere in other people’s lives. Alas, as soon as he saw Mito’s too large eyes lower in defeat and restrained sadness, Madara cursed, his smooth baritone ringing in the quiet tent.

“I will go.”

The grin that split Hashirama’s face was instantaneous. “See! Problem solved! There is no other man I would entrust with my beloved’s protection!” he gave Tobirama a challenging look, shit-eating grin in place.

Tobirama, on the other hand, was not so easily convinced. “Lady Mito, what are your thoughts on this?”

The man’s stern voice snapped Mito to attention, the long hours of social conditioning drowning the feeling of elated happiness she was feeling. With a formal bow, she addressed the younger of the Senju brothers. “I have complete and total confidence in my future husband’s choice, Tobirama-sama.” She then lifted her head, her eyes passing Madara for a mere second before lowering once more in deference. “And I am certain that Uchiha-dono’s skill will keep my person safe if such circumstances will arise.”

Tobirama sighed, confident that they were all out to shove him into an early grave with their rash decisions.

Seeing his brother’s silent acknowledgment, Hashirama boomed. “Then it’s settled! Madara, you will leave first thing in the morning! We will make sure to create a diversion on the left flank so that the majority of the enemy soldiers will be focused on us.” He then moved close to his friend and clasped his shoulder with his large hand. “Take care of her, my friend.”

.

.

Evening fell, and the war meeting was finally over. They drafted battle plans, spoke of future troop movements and of provisions. Through it all, Madara paid minimal attention, his thoughts roaring at his sheer stupidity.

What was he thinking? What had happened with his thoughts and decisions of staying away from this woman?

No, this was just a necessary evil. The sooner that damn beast was gone, the sooner she was gone, and all would be back to normal. They will fight their never-ending war, Hashirama would get back to merely pining over her while he could go and find a bottle of sake or two to erase the stupidity that seemed to grip his usually level head. The sooner this entire madness was gone the sooner he could continue pretending that nothing was interesting about Hashirama’s prissy noble fiancé.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Madara walked back to his tent in the dead of night. And it was precisely those thoughts that disappeared from his head as he saw a figure with crimson hair standing a while away from his tent… his private and personal tent, in the middle of the night where there was no one else in sight.

Was this girl insane?

“Lady Mito.” He intoned respectfully, none of his outrage present in his voice.

“Uchiha-dono. Walk with me.” Her head was held high, voice leaving no room for argument.

Madara inwardly winced at the formal address. He really did not like being called Uchiha-dono. His father had been Uchiha-dono, and his father was dead, killed by his arrogance and weakness. He was better than _Uchiha-dono_. But he did not voice his complaints, aware that for a girl of noble education such as her, she found shelter in formalities, especially in a hostile terrain such as this.

_She should not be here!_ He thought vehemently but followed her fluid gait nonetheless.

Mito did not look at him, but she was hyperaware of Madara’s presence by her side. He was tall, his spiky black hair giving him a few extra centimeters and adding to the imposing figure he struck. For a moment, she felt intimidated, but that moment passed underneath the Uzumaki-specific fire that burned through her veins. She was Uzumaki Mito, and she will not bow down to anyone out of anything but politeness! “Why did you offer yourself to accompany me?”

For a moment, Madara was speechless. There was no answer to her question, and unquestionably no proper response to the accusing tone she spoke in.

Why did he offer himself? Because she clearly wanted to go!

No… that was not an appropriate answer.

For the first time in a long time, Madara was speechless. This was an opponent he could not defeat in conventional ways, and Mito clearly had more experience in these kinds of battles. So he did the only wise thing he could think of and kept his mouth shut.

The silence grated on Mito’s nerves. Was he not even going to grace her with an answer? She could see his tense demeanor clearly, see how his jaw was clenching and unclenching in what she could only believe was anger, how his eyes were narrowed in disgust. Did he think her so incapable? Outraged and more determined than ever, Mito spoke, her words like vitriol. “Uchiha-dono, if your offer of assistance has been made simply to mock me or worse, send me back home, then you are dismissed from your promise. I came here for a reason, and I will fulfill that reason whether it is in line with your beliefs or not.”

She turned on her heels, ready to walk away and leave a very stunned Madara behind her.

Before she managed to take one step away from him, the stupor fell from him, and he found his voice. “Lady Mito, you came here with a purpose. I will help you with that, but in return, you must swear to never return to this camp until the war is over.”

“Why?”

“As I said before, a war camp is no place for a lady. Here men become monsters, and humans lose their humanity.”

She gave him a level look, the fire of the torches casting an eerie glow over her fathomless steel grey eyes. “And what of you, Uchiha-dono?”

A smirk graced his lips before he could even think of stopping it. “I’ve never claimed to be anything, Lady Mito. I let my enemies draw their own conclusions.”

There was nothing in her eyes to betray the shiver that was making its way down her spine. Mito had been taught better than that.

There was an aura of death and danger around the man in front of her. She could see how in the heat of battle, the leader of the Uchiha clan could be confounded with a demon of the underworld, his long hair billowing around him, Sharingan red eyes no doubt alight with the heat of battle and bloodshed. There was a cloak of power and control around him, a whisper of darkness, a touch of fire. Her pulse quickened, and Mito was not sure whether it was in anticipation or fear. She did not want to find out.

“Good night, Uchiha-dono.” She did not wait for his reply, quietly slipping away into the night, the light of the torches no longer gracing her features.

.

.

The coming morning found Mito almost trembling with trepidation. She had barely slept last night, thinking of the following day, reviewing every jutsu she knew in her head. After three helpless hours spent twisting and turning, she gave up on sleep and spent the better part of the night creating five different sealing jutsus for the beast.

Depending on the strength of the beast, a stronger or particular type of seal would be necessary. Still, Mito envisioned the amazement on everyone’s faces (no, she did not mean Madara, or at least she told herself that) when she simply saw the beast and slapped the seal on the ground, capturing it in one go.

By the time she had finished coding and memorizing the fifth seal, Mito agreed that she had gone overboard with it and decided to meditate until the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon.

Now, as the early morning rolled by, Mito was in full battle gear, her hair pulled in her signature two buns, the comforting weight of two large scrolls on the small of her back. She was ready for anything.

“Mito-chan.” Came Kou’s pleasant voice, his presence just outside her tent. “We are ready to move out.”

She stood, a mantle of calm falling over her shoulders.

She was Uzumaki Mito, and she will prevail.

She walked out in the frigid air of the morning, her gait confident, head held high. She gave Kou a polite greeting, choosing to uphold manners. Although her protector and friend always overstepped them, choosing familiarity over protocol, Mito would do no such things outside the safety and familiarity of Uzushio. To the third member of their party, Mito had only a steely gaze to offer, righteousness and determination shining through every pore in her body.

With a raised eyebrow, Madara nodded in Kou’s direction, and they turned to move out.

“Mito-chan!” the sound of Hashirama’s voice made her pause.

He was dressed in his battle regalia, making him imposing, bigger, and more dangerous. There was a layer of something, something that made her look in almost fright at his tall frame. But then Mito saw the natural smile playing on his lips and that thin sheen of fear washed over her, left behind under the gaze of warm, brown eyes. And then he grabbed her tiny wrists and all genteel feeling left her as she stiffened at his impudence.

Hashirama was blissfully oblivious to her glower, his earnest gaze taking in her features. “Promise me you will stay safe.”

How could she remain impassive at such earnest concern? How could she stay upset in the face of such a sincere feeling? She could not. So as she carefully extracted her wrists from his large hands, Mito’s gaze softened and she gave him a small bow, a smile gracing her lips. “Have no fear, Hashirama-sama. I shall return unharmed.”


	5. Seals

-Seals-

_I admit to never be one for battle. It had not been instilled in me as a child, as my father had long ago decided to not steer me toward a kunoichi career. That is not to say that I was defenseless; no Uzumaki worth their salt truly is. The sheer range of seals that I had been taught and that I could perform could put many a foe down._

_Yet there was always something about battles that did not appeal to me. The inelegance of it, a mess of arms, legs and blood thrown around… the clash of chakra and the resulting smell of ozone it left behind, or merely the fact that it made one lose control and shout, rage, push themselves until their faces were red and voice raw. An undignified ordeal._

_Still, no one could say I was not capable of doing it… if the situation was to ever present itself._

_._

_._

It did not take long for them to reach the edge of the beast’s territory, the punishing pace that Madara had employed nearly cutting their time by half. When they finally stopped, Mito was panting, her muscles screaming at her to simply flop somewhere in the cold mud and stay there.

_He’s doing it on purpose! What is he trying to show that I am not at his level?_

She was about to leave a scathing remark when Madara suddenly tensed in front of her. To her right, Mito could see Kou slip a hand over his katana, his violet eyes shifting. Then she felt it, chakra signatures popping into existence all around them as if from nowhere. She could hear Madara swear in front of her, his hand slipping to the Gunbai strapped to his back.

“Tch, not these leeches again.”

Mito was almost staggered at the sheer amount of killing intent emanating from the man before her, his dark hair seeming to billow on an unseen wind, waves upon waves of malicious power pouring out of him. It was an intimidation tactic that many shinobi used; she knew that, but that did not mean she was prepared for the sheer amount and effectiveness of it. As she spoke, she could barely restrain the tremble in her voice. “Who are they?”

“They’re most likely the vanguard of the Hitoshirezu clan. They have a truly unfortunate kekei genkai that allows them to make their bodies, chakra, and presence invisible to the naked eye. They call themselves the unseen killers.”

Mito nodded, filing the information away, her mind already trying to come up with a plan. If they could truly become invisible, then they could easily sneak behind them and kill them without before any of them could do as much as blink. So why reveal their presence? Unless…

Before Mito could do as much as blink, Kou’s larger frame was in front of her, slashing at the seemingly void in front of them… only to have blood pour and a body suddenly materializing on the floor.

“Mito-chan, stand behind me.”

Suddenly Mito was afraid. There was nothing she could do against an opponent that she could not see nor sense! Two more bodies fell to the floor behind them, and Mito could see Madara’s glowing red eyes, the tomoe inside it spinning furiously. Could he… see them?

With a sweep of his Gunbai, he created a gust of wind that raised the dust of the battlefield. Suddenly, where there was previously nothing to be seen, Mito could count at least twenty figures advancing from all directions.

A few seconds later, the dust had settled and they were blind once more. Still, Madara looked calm. His Sharingan was activated, shifting from one direction to another. And then he was gone, lunging towards seemingly nothing, but hitting live bodies, slicing through flesh and spluttering crimson blood around him. He was a flurry of movement, moving from one opponent to another like a deadly current, each kick precise, each thrust of a kunai hitting its mark. Mito was mystified, entranced by his dangerous dance of precision. She could sense it, feel how each unit of chakra was used with second bursts, nothing left to waste, nothing out of place. 

She had always thought that fighting was a messy, undignified business, brutish, and out of control. But Maara made it look elegant, the splatter of blood on the ground like the trails of a calligraphy brush.

In the blink of an eye, he was turning toward her, his eyes narrowing as he poised the kunai in his hand.

_What is he…?_

It happened so fast that she had no time to react, no time to feel fear crawl up her spine. One moment she was watching Madara, the next a kunai zipped right past her ear, embedding itself in the eye of a previously invisible man.

How did he see them?

But now was not the time to think things over. She was nothing but a sitting duck in the middle of the battle. She needed to do something; otherwise, she was nothing but a liability. With a quick motion, she grabbed one of the kunai she had, slashing her palm. The pain was instant, but she was used to that. Lots of the more complex Uzumaki seals required an offer of blood, a bond to tie the chakra of the caster with the seal formula.

The intent was known: trap, paralyze.

As the blood from her cut dripped on the floor, Mito pushed chakra in her right leg and drew a pentagon, the tip of her shoe smearing the ground with blood.

The anchor was set.

She had practiced this seal before, cast it numerous times in the practice ring, and worked to expand its range. There was no need for written codes, there was no need for long lines of script. The Uzumaki were the first to perfect the use of complex seals in battle. They could see the script in their mind’s eye, and what they saw became a reality; their will was imprinted upon it, making them unrivaled masters in their craft.

With deft fingers, she weaved the seals, her eyes wide open, senses stretched as she modified the formula to exclude her two companions.

The trigger was armed.

With a confident smile, Mito slammed her hand down, a web of Fuin script erupting from her hand.

_Itsubochi Fuin: Kousoku wana!_

For a moment, everything was still, and Mito feared that she had, in fact, failed to keep Kou and Madara out of the formula range. But then chakra signatures began to flicker all around them, and soon the paralyzed figures of ten soldiers shimmered into view.

.

.

“You did well,” said Madara. Her performance surprised him, to say the least. When they’d left camp that morning and he set his eyes on her, he almost scoffed. A high-born, silk used spoiled girl who wanted to play at being a warrior. It was such a lousy cliché that he could nearly laugh; that is if he weren’t the one in charge of keeping her alive. But now…

In hindsight, he should have known better than to doubt her abilities. There were rumors about the Uzumaki, about their strength in battle and how one of their own was worth ten regular shinobi; how even a child of Uzushio was to be feared, for they could trap your soul and use your life to add it to theirs. All utter nonsense of course, but he figured that there was some truth to it. And now here she was. A woman that looked like she had never fought a battle in her life was the reason why they won so easily.

Mito focused on keeping her features under control. She always enjoyed praise, especially when it concerned her craft. And for it to come from an arrogant man such as him, well, it made the satisfaction double. But appearances had to be kept and it was definitely not proper for a lady to gush with glee or say ‘I told you so!’— no matter the circumstance.

Still, she couldn’t let this go unpunished.

She looked down at him from the length of her nose, an impressive act in itself since she barely reached his shoulder, and filled her tone with all the disinterest she could muster. “If you will, _Uchiha-dono,_ we should return to the task for which I came.”

For a moment, he froze, or maybe it was just something she imagined because a heartbeat later Madara inclined his head, and they started walking once more in search of the beast.

.

.

That was it. He hated the girl, he really hated her. She was a stuck up snotty noble that treated everyone like they were mud on her pristine boots. And worst of all, she treated **him** like that! How dare she? He was Uchiha Madara, leader of the Uchiha clan, master of the Mangekyo, and he will not allow this girl to snub him like that! His nostrils flared as he focused on keeping his anger internalized; least he would do something stupid and break his promise to Hashirama. The image of what his friend would do if his betrothed were to come to harm was enough to cool his temper. Instead, he employed the same punishing pace he kept this morning, smirking at her tired gasps of breath; serves her right.

“S-stop,” said Mito, putting her hands on her knees and panting in the most unladylike manner she had ever done.

A few steps ahead, Madara turned, his smirk now visible. Her perfectly pulled hair was starting to lose control, wisps of crimson sticking to her sweaty forehead and red cheeks. He would bet his armor that this was the most effort she’d done in her entire life! Yes, this was what he disliked with nobles. They were soft, weak. He conveniently ignored her previous display just as she rudely ignored his praise. “Tired, lady Mito?”

She took a few calming breaths, trying in vain to bring her heart to a reasonable speed. A few seconds passed and Madara’s smirk grew wider. Finally, she managed to bring her breathing under control and school her features in the usual half polite, half-mocking expression she usually used on Hashirama. “Not at all, thank you for your most considerate question. However, the beast we are looking for is in that clearing.” She pointed a dainty finger to a nearby patch of smaller trees that were slowly thinning into a large clearing.

Madara’s eyes narrowed at her. “How do you know that?”

Oh, how she itched to return his smirk. She will wipe it off his face and show him that she was anything but useless! “I—”

“Lady Mito is one of Uzushio’s most accomplished sensors,” cut in Kou, his violet eyes twinkling with concealed mirth. “Her skill is truly remarkable.”

Her heart brimmed with pride. To be acknowledged by one of Uzushio’s finest warriors was a privilege she was not accustomed to. Yes, she was a skilled sensor, but what good did that do when she’d never left the island? What good was sensing someone on the other side of the island when all she had to worry about was when her maid will bring dinner, and when her father will come and question her about future plans? _Thank you,_ she thought while inclining her head and hoped that he could feel her gratitude. They were not connected, as he was probably with all other warriors that went out in the field, but she could still hope that her feelings reached him.

“Then we should be on our way,” said Madara briskly as he changed direction.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Mito moved to stop him before she remembered herself. “Uchiha-dono, I would advise against it.”

“Tell me, lady Mito, are you a respected strategist as well in your homeland?”

She should have let him go. Maybe if she were lucky, the beast would kill him. “Not at all, however the beast is currently unaware of our presence. If we want the sealing to proceed swiftly, then it would be wise to keep it unaware. Do you not think so?” She was challenging him and she knew it. It gave her a rush, her adrenaline spiking as she saw his jaw tighten and his brow twitch.

“Your plan?” said Madara through clenched teeth.

“I will keep my chakra masked and gradually restrain it. The creature is powerful, I can sense that. If it were to realize that a seal is being placed on it, then it will likely react violently. If this happens… it is better that it does not. ” Mito didn’t expect such a powerful creature. The waves of chakra it was emanating were almost burning her senses.

“And will this seal of yours work?”

Again with the doubt. It had to work. “It will. This seal is an ancient Uzumaki seal that has been passed down generations and has been taught to me by Ashina-sama himself.”

Madara was doubtful, but it was his job, and in his nature to do so. How many enemies have told him that their powers were passed on by the Gods themselves, or that they will slay him with their powerful jutsu that has been in their clan for years? Too many to count. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then, I am lucky to have two outstanding warriors with me.” With that, she stepped ahead, hoping that she had managed to conceal the tremble in her fingers.

Mito kept her senses fixed on the massive beast slumbering in the clearing. Its power was greater than anything she had seen before, an accumulation of chakra and malevolence that filled the air. It was no wonder that it terrorized the shinobi, for such a beast could not be taken down by usual means. And neither could it be sealed adequately. No scroll could contain this much chakra. She will have to banish it.

With the tip of a kunai, she sliced her hand for the second time that day, dipped her fingers in the blood pooling in her palm, and began writing on the trees. With the first symbol done, Mito closed her eyes, envisioning the complex seal, and began chanting in a low voice.

_I pay homage to the all-pervading Gods._

She moved sideways, painting symbols on all the trees, slowly creating a circle around the beast.

_I am the embodiment of your power._

_Oh, Violent One of Great Wrath,_

_Destroy!_

_Oh, Wondrous One,_

_Oh, Unstained One,_

_May the defilements be removed!_

_Oh, Immovable One,_

_Save us in the glory of the Deathless One!_

The circle was almost complete, her humming voice hypnotic to the two soldiers behind.

_I pay homage to the great Space Bearer,_

_Oh, Unfailing Gods, may the seal, space, time, and light evolve!_

Blinding light erupted from the circle she had drawn, whipping her clothes and pulling her hair from the twin buns she favored. Mito fought to keep her eyes open, her chakra powering the seal before her. It had to work, it had to! She pushed more, giving it more, opening up her connection to the seal and letting it take what it needed to complete itself. The blood-drawn symbols lit up and multiplied, forming a circular barrier around the now awake beast. It began thrashing, pushing against the pull of the seal.

_No!_

_I pay homage to the great Space Bearer,_

_Oh, Unfailing Gods, may the seal, space, time, and light evolve!_

She repeated the mantra in her head, and each repetition added another layer to the seal. By her seventh time, she could feel her grip on reality slip away. With one final push, she felt the beast being pulled from this plane of existence and brought someplace else, in another world where it will remain trapped as long as she drew breath.

Then, all went dark.

.

Translation

Itsubochi Fuin: Kousoku wana = five-point seal: binding snare


	6. Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so I decided to make this a drabble series. I never expected this, but it seems like the story is enjoyed, and I don’t want to abandon it. Still, with one massive fic already on my shoulders, and real life obligations… carrying another full-fledged story is a daunting idea. Buuuuut… tossing a few lines (sometimes more, sometimes less) in the direction of these three is not so scary.

_I always detested sickness. The idea of being bedridden, weak and unable to muster even the most meager amount of dignity never appealed to me. I always strived to avoid such a state._

_Alas, no one is perfect, least of all I._

-Shadow-

She slept for what felt like an eternity. 

To Madara it was a thousand years of agony, a million hours in the constant presence of Hashirama’s simpering companionship. He swore by all the kami up in heaven that if he were to hear his friend sigh and whine once more time, he, Uchiha Madara, will end him. 

And yet, when night fell upon the war camp and the shinobi were all huddled in their futons, he creeped like a shadow inside her tent and gazed at her too pale face. They left her hair unbound, cascading around her small face like a crimson river. 

Chakra exhaustion, her companion, Kou, said. Even the bottomless chakra reserves of the Uzumaki had their limits... and Mito’s limit was sending a powerful beast-demon in… another dimension? He was unsure of the seal’s workings, but from what Kou had explained, she had done just that. Right before she collapsed, her entire being glowed with power, her chakra blinding him. Yet as she fell, Madara thought that she felt so fragile in his arms. A slip of a girl that barely reached his chin, with hair as crimson as his Sharingan. 

It was strange to see her like that, in bed. She was a dignified… girl, woman? Laying lifeless on a bed did not suit her, and he could tell that without even knowing her. So he came there each night, under the cover of darkness, like a shadow creeping into her tent to look at her and wonder…

“When will you wake?”


	7. Dreams

_As a child, I used to dream of flying. I would soar through the clouds and gently land on the ground, as graceful as a swan. When I began my training, I used to dream of the many battles of which I would never be a part of. I would be a general on the field, wielding a fiery weapon and feeling the wind in my hair. As I grew, my dreams faded in the wake of meditation. I learned to calm my racing mind and controlled my dreams. And then they came. With them, my control shattered, and I began dreaming anew._

-Dreams-

Her feet were bare, her legs barely covered by the tatters of her yukata. Mikoto’s hair whipped around her face as she tried in vain to find purchase in the storm before her. She shouted, yet her voice could not be heard. She tried to run, but her legs would not obey. Helplessly, she gazed with frightened eyes at the hurricane headed toward her.

Gods above, give me strength, she thought.

The winds raced toward her, cutting her skin, pulling her off the ground and pulling her in their tempest. This was not something she could fight. Defeated, Mito closed her eyes, surrendering her body to the storm before her.

“I expected more.”

The words cut through her like a hot knife, snapping her ash-colored eyes wide open. He stood before her, impossibly tall in his crimson armour, his frame blocking the incoming storm. His ebony hair, wild and loose, swirled around him like a wild animal, alive and angry. With one look he breathed fire back inside her veins. Her shoulders straightened, fists tightening by her sides.

“I’ll show you.”

“Then show me,” he whispered, yet this time he was no longer before her. He stood behind her, his powerful arms snaking around her waist, pulling her smaller body into him.

Mito turned to look at him, and she gasped, her eyes meeting chocolate brown instead of black. His smile was warm, his touch comforting. She leaned in, searching for some of that warmth, that strength.

“Wake up,“ he said in a deep voice, and Mito wondered how she ever thought of Hashirama as childish. He sounded anything but.

Her eyes blinked open, and she saw wisps of light flittering through the tent’s material. She looked to the side and was surprised to see Hashirama sleeping on the floor, his head leaning on her cot. For a moment she forgot propriety as she lifted her hand and gently placed it on his head.

“I’m awake.“


	8. Shift

_I always thought he was better at expressing himself in writing. Maybe the distance freed him, maybe it was the control he had over his words. At times I used to wonder who the real Madara was…_

-Shift-

_Lady Mito,_

_I apologize for not being there once you woke up. I was unexpectedly detained on the left flank, hoping to detain an incursion into recently captured territory. Still, I trust Hashirama has provided you will all the attention you require. Probably, as I know my friend, even more._

_I must thank you for your aid, Lady Mito. I am fortunate to have witnessed a powerful sealing technique such as yours, although I must urge you to lessen your reckless behavior in the future._

_Kou-san tells me that you will return to Uzushio. I wish you a safe journey Lady Mito, and I hope you have found what you were looking for in our war camp. Needless to say, I do hope that upon your next visit we will be able to receive you in a more civilized setting._

_Yours,_

_Uchiha Madara_

Madara re-read the words a fifth time. This was his third attempt at writing, and by now he considered not writing at all. In fact, he shouldn’t write to her. It was improper, downright scandalous that he considered sending the letter. A letter of which Hashirama had no knowledge of. After much deliberation, he stifled his concern and sent the letter, certain that she will never dignify him with an answer.

When the reply came, Madara hid it for two days before he finally found the privacy to crack open the letter’s seal.

_General Uchiha,_

_I admit my disappointment when I woke up and received word that you had been sent on another mission. I never got to thank you for carrying me back to camp. Kou tells me you were quite insistent, though I must admit, I am appalled by your lack of decorum. I prefer to be informed when I am being transported by strange men._

_I appreciate the regards. Hashirama-dono has been most genteel once I woke up, expressing his worry for me and my health. His manner, though overbearing is born out of genuine concern, but I suspect it will take a while to get used to it._

_As for what I have found, yes and no. I understand your struggles better, and I can see that mere idealism will not build Konoha, or win peace in your territory. But do not forget, Uchiha-dono, that you are dealing with people there. Even enemies might see reason when a different proposal is set before their eyes. And while I have experienced firsthand what an accomplished fighter you are, violence is not always the answer._

_Yours,_

_Uzumaki Mito_

A wiry smile stretched Madara’s lips. He had better start penning his response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments!


	9. Endearing

_Hashirama was like the sun, a light so earnest and blinding that was at times overwhelming, and yet warmed you to the bones. Madara…at first I thought of him as the moon. Cool, elegant and composed, containing the same type of warm light, yet different, filtered. With time I came to realize my mistake. He was no mere moon, he was a distant star that lit up the darkness, burning with the power of a supernova._

_He was all-consuming._

-Endearing-

“Hashirama-dono, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Mito smiled indulgently at the ear-splitting grin on Hashirama’s face. It was hard not to smile when one saw him.

“Mito-chaaan, I…” he paused as if remembering something, then bowed formally. “I mean, it is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Mito. I hope you have been doing well in the time we have been apart.”

Mito raised an elegant brow. “Your sentiments are much appreciated, Hashirama-dono. I have been doing well, thank you. And yourself? I do hope that the war efforts are proving fortuitous.”

“Ah, yeah. We have our ups and downs, but so far things are going in the right direction. I mean, I think we’re gonna have a breakthrough by the end of the year.”

“Oh, I am looking forward to that.”

“Me too!” His face lightened up like a small sun, effervescent energy pouring out of him as he animatedly spoke of his plans and dreams for the future Konoha.

Mito listened to him talk, nodding and smiling at his sometimes idealistic thoughts, but finding them nonetheless endearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so hard not to post everything I have at once! My fingers itch to do it, but I know I must pace myself, otherwise, you will get 10 chapters at once and then... none for a long time. Next one will likely be up by tomorrow.


	10. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah... I couldn't wait. Enjoy!

_Their friendship always fascinated me. It was more than camaraderie, a blend of love, hate and everything in-between that entwined them together. A bond, forged by hurt, pain and something deeper… I envied it._

-Control-

It took Mito six months until she could leave Uzushio once more. She had to come up with some of the most ridiculous excuses to do it, and luckily Hashirama was eager to indulge her. Between her pleas and Hashirama’s outstanding performance, Ashina gave in and presented her with a new mission on the battlefront. Yet, as it usually was with the Uzushio leader, her freedom came at a price.

Mito’s mission to aid the Hyuuga clan, a newly gained and prestigious ally, with a sealing-related conundrum, was only a small part of a bigger game. Ashina had grown tired of waiting, and Uzushio was getting hungrier by the month. Peace had to be attained, stability had to come to the continent, and Konoha had to be formed. Ashina sent his son, Kou, with an entire platoon behind them, to speed the process.

Her shoulders almost bowed at the pressure. The war had to resolve by the end of the year.

The camp was dead silent upon their arrival, the Senju and Uchiha soldiers oddly silent, while the rest of their troops did their best to find something to do. A sudden burst of chakra, followed by a deafening boom, made the entire camp twitch, yet none moved to take cover.

“By the Kamis, what is happening?” asked Mito, addressing a Senju captain she had met during her last visit.

“Ah, Lady Mito… do not concern yourself with it. Madara-dono and Hashirama-dono are just having a… difference of opinion.”

“By leveling the countryside?”

The captain smiled uncomfortably. “Aye, this is nothing. Actually, they’re quite controlled. Probably just a minor spat.”


	11. Explosive

_ As  _ _ Uzumaki _ _ we are plagued by our feelings. We are explosive, effervescent in our emotions and are way too easily  _ _ lead _ _ by them. Even the most stoic and controlled among us must battle with their emotions, control them,  _ _ temper _ _ them. Yet at times, when we least expect it, our emotions get the better of us. _

-Explosive-

She should have stayed put. She knows that . Kou told her to stay there, to not interfere and mind her own business. She was a lady, dignified, composed. They would come out of it, according to the soldiers they always did. But her indignation sparked, crackling like summer lightning and unlike so many times before, Mito does not want to hold it in. 

Her chakra is concealed as she leaves camp, the moon’s silver rays lighting up her path. Her steps are silent as she approaches them, narrowed eyes taking in the destruction their scuffle made. Broken trees, craters, boulders turned to dust. 

_ If this is a mere spat, what will happen if these two go all out?  _

Silence reigns over the decimated forest, the full moon outlining their fallen bodies. 

Mito breathes in, trying in vain to control herself. In…. out… Oh, who was she kidding? The tight hold she kept on her chakra slipped like silk between her fingers, washing over the two shinobi like a tsunami. 

“I hope you two h ave a good explanation for this, ” she says in the tone she reserves for when her rowdy students upturn her classroom, because the  Uzumaki run hot and their emotions always get the better of them.

And while  Hashirama perks up at her presence,  Madara looks surprisingly chastised, his arched lips turned in a scowl, dark eyes turned away from her. 

“You two are the leaders of this war,” she hissed, her chakra obediently molding to her emotions and flicking at them like a sharp whip. “You are the leaders of two clans that made a tenuous peace just a few years ago after a century-long conflict. How will your fights look in the eyes of your men? This alliance is hanging by a thread, your dream, you peace. And you two act like children! Explain yourselves!”


	12. Tempest

_Uzushio’s treacherous waters are mirrored in its people. Or so I am told…_

-Tempest-

She was a storm, a whirlwind of rage and indignation that made her seem larger than life, her chakra whipping at their faces with pinprick precision. Hashirama grinned and began standing, the lack of preservation instinct mirrored in his wide grin and twinkling eyes. Only a motherless fool raised by wild animals would miss the vicious reprimand in her bottomless stormy eyes.

Madara had more sense than that. The many times his late mother had displayed the same frigid anger were still fresh in his memory. It was instinctual, some ancient urge to defer to this slip of a girl with steel in her voice. He lowered his head, adverted his eyes and secretly smirked at seeing Hashirama get thoroughly chewed on by the tempest that Uzumaki Mito was.


	13. Friendship

_Sometimes I was jealous of their connection. A link stronger than friendship, something that bordered on the love a brother has for another, and yet not at all. It was a love that I could never reach, but that came to them as easy as breathing._

-Friend-

“Stop pouting like that, it’s unbecoming.”

Hashirama sank further in his chair, his chocolate eyes filled with sorrow. It almost frightened Madara how his friend’s sadness pulled him in, urging him to… to what?

His hand twitched, fingers itching to reach Hashirama’s bowed shoulders. What was he even doing here, why did he do this to himself? Tobirama should be here, console his brother, and… oh who was he kidding. Tobirama had the emotional sensitivity of a rock. Madara pulled back, his chair scrapping noisily on the floor.

“You’re acting like a child,” he sneered, the real bite removed from his voice.

“Let’s face it, a girl like her could never be with a fool like I.”

Madara twitched, once more caught unprepared for the sudden shift in Hashirama. He was a fool one moment and a wise-man the next, switching between emotions like the wind through leaves.

“Well then, consider yourself fortunate that she is already your betrothed and has basically no say in the matter.” He didn’t want to sound bitter; he had no real reason to. But he was, and that bitterness, that envy at Hashirama’s… everything reflected in his tone.

“Tell me, Madara, do you hate me?”

“Would I be here if I did?”

Hashirama laughed and it sounded like ash blown in the wind. “You are here for your clan, for peace, for—”

“You really are thick-headed. I pity Lady Mito, she has ended up with the most stupid man I know.” This time his words did bite, the fire of tightly-leashed feelings scorching his tongue.

He turned to leave, and his hand, treacherous as it was, lingered on Hashirama’s shoulder like the apologetic caress after an angry slap.

_You should have realized by now that I don’t give a damn about peace…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two have a special connection. Is it friendship, is it something more?


	14. Crash

_It makes sense now, after all these years to blame anyone but_ _myself_ _for what happened. And sometimes, in the bad days when my guilt pushes me down with crippling strength, I wonder if there was something I could have done different._

-Crash- 

“I have half a mind to be offended, for you seem to avoid me, Uchiha-dono.” She stepped out of the trees’ shadow, her chakra invisible, the pale skin of her face bathed in moonlight. 

Avoid her, yes he had been trying his damnable best to do that. Hashirama’s betrothed, for he always reminded himself of her status, was the one person he truly went out of his way to avoid. He had to. He needed time to erase the image of her fury, still needed time to forget how she looked back then on the battlefield, blood hair whirling about like a storm. He had to forget all that, replace it with the picture of her proper attitude, her status, and her future role in Hashirama’s life. 

“How unfortunate that you would think that, Lady Mito,” he replied flippantly, keeping his back toward her. “As you can see, I am busy.” He returned to his katas, content that he was sufficiently crass for a lady as herself to feel offended, walk off and never give him her time of day ever again. 

Mito’s dainty steps shuffled toward him, the swish of her silks too audible in the air’s stillness. “You are dreadfully conceited to believe that such words will push me away, Uchiha-dono.” 

Madara could hear her, even with his back turned. She was close, much too close for his tastes, and yet a dark curl of desire inside him lamented at how far away she still was. He squashed that thought with vicious precision, obstinately keeping his back to her. She pulled at his elbow, forcing him to turn and Madara stiffened, yet mere seconds later yielded to her gentle prodding. 

“What eats at your mind, Uchiha-dono?” 

“I appreciate the concern, Lady Mito, but it is misplaced,” he said, voice laced with a sneer. “Perhaps you should direct it toward your future husband?” 

She flinched back as if slapped, indignation painted on her beautiful face. “For you to speak such words!” 

She was livid. Madara could clearly see it, and in her anger the carefully constructed chains that kept her temper in check were snapping loose. 

“Do all mainlanders consider a person’s heart so small and selfish to merely contain one other?” 

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, making his eyes widen in shock and dare he say, hope. Yet he could see by the crimson staining her cheeks and parted lips, that she was equally perplexed by them. 

“Your care is wasted, Lady Mito,” he said, desperate to put some distance between them. 

But Mito was like a storm unleashed, a wave that had built up in the depths of the ocean and was now inevitably going to crash into the shore. 

“I thought we connected, I thought we were…” 

“What?” 

“Friends,” she said, and it pierced him easier than a well-sharpened blade. 

Friends. 

Of course. 

Swallowing the bitter-sweet essence of his disappointment, Madara brought his hand up to cover hers. “Yes, we are.” 

He left her there in the clearing, thinking how he could ever justify the fire in his soul burning for his… friend.

Then again, he was quite adept at it. 


	15. Selfish

_My mother always scolded me for my selfish nature. She told me to look after my siblings more, to share what I had with them._

_I was a greedy child…maybe still am._

-Selfish-

“Don’t think I did not see you, Mito-chan.”

Mito bristled, her straight back curling like that of a cornered cat. “What are you accusing me of? And I told you Kou, stop calling me Mito-chan, it makes me sound like a child.”

“And yet, this is what you are. A child that wants to get the one toy she’s not allowed to have. As they say, don’t drop the fish in your hand for the one in the ocean.”

“It’s not like I’m choosing.” She fumbled with the edge of her sleeve, her stormy eyes revealing the turmoil inside. Kou was safe. He would judge, he would cajole, but he would listen and… care. “It is not I who chose my husband.”

“Mito…”

“No, let me say this. Let me say this before it swallows me whole, before the disdain at this injustice seeps into my veins and poisons my heart. It is I who is sold off for the good of our land!” She was panting now, her voice rising in shrill tones of desperation, hands clinging at Kou’s hakama. “I am not blind, I see how our people starve, but it is not I who brought them to starvation, it is not I who cut ties with the continent and drove off all merchants!”

“Mito,” cajoled Kou, “the price for our independence is steep, but we would have otherwise paid for grain in blood, chakra and people. Our people!”

“And so I have to pay?” She covered her mouth as soon as the words got out, but it was too late. Kou’s face shadowed.

“You are a child, Mito-chan.”

Mito’s head lowered, shoulders slumping in penitence. “Forgive me, I was selfish.”

“You are,” he said, the viciousness gone. To Mito he looked tired, much older than he really was, with dark circles under his eyes and hollowed-out cheeks. “Compared to the fate of others, you will be a queen. There is nothing your Senju prince won’t give you...”

Flashes of crimson-haired bodies littered with bite marks filled her head. Bodies dropped in the ocean from the continent’s shore, sucked dry of their energy and bloated with sea water. She shivered, shame covering her like tar. Yes, she was selfish. Her price was nothing at all, a gift, compared to what other Uzumaki had to pay. The Senju, Konoha… they would provide them with grain, and more importantly with an ally they could trust.

“You are right,” she whispered, “as always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!!! May 2021 be a billion times better than 2020, not that it will be a hard thing to do :D


	16. Cordial

_In Uzushio we do not concern ourselves with ethics. The rest of the world does not care, so why should we? It was likely my soft heart that made me question some of the things shinobi do in their quest for power, or in their fear of losing it._

-Cordial-

“Dearest Mito, please,” said Hashirama, dragging her by the hands outside the cramped tent. “I know it’s brutal and unfair, and… yeah just not right, but we need this. We need the Hyuuga as our allies.”

She channeled her fury and indignation into an icy needle and proceeded to stab Hashirama with it. “They are mutilating children, blinding them in order for the main branch to stay in power. That is inhumane, no matter how you look at it, Hashirama-dono. I refuse to be a part of this.”

“Yeah, but… I mean what will you tell Ashina?”

“I refuse to harm children. I believe this is something he will allow to pass in the list of transgressions.”

“Still, we really need the Hyuuga. They’re a strong, old clan that has kept to themselves so far and we really don’t want them as our enemies.”

“Do you really need them?” pressed Mito, stepping toward Hashirama and managing to dwarf him despite her small stature. “If they have kept to themselves thus far, what is to say that they will not continue to do so in the future?”

“Well, you do have a—”

“I was under the impression that you would convince Lady Mito to do our bidding, not the other way around.” Madara’s voice was like gravel and oil mixed, flowing smoothly over the words, yet with a gruff undertone to it.

“I am simply showing Hashirama-dono the error of his thoughts by pointing out the horrifying ways of others,” countered Mito with as much dignity as she could infuse her sentence with.

“Indeed, fascinating. Only, Lady Mito, it is not your place or yours to judge the traditions of another clan. Such things are passed down generations, or have evolved as a means to keep order and prosperity within the clan.”

“I beg to differ. If the said clan is to become a member of a larger community, then they are to adopt the rules of said community.”

Madara scoffed. “Lady Mito, such views might work on Uzushio, but do not forget that there is only one clan on your island, and the civilians that do live there, as few as they are, must adapt to the Uzumaki way of things. We are trying to build a conglomerate of many traditions, cultures, and norms. Force a clan to relinquish their ways which have accompanied them for generations, and you have a revolt on your hands.”

“So, you will allow them to mutilate children in your new village? Where is the peace in that, Madara-dono?”

Madara’s eyes widened at the sound of his given name, but neither Mito nor Hashirama seemed to have noticed. He schooled his features and lifted his chin, looking down at her. “I believe this is why we required your assistance. The Hyuuga have conceded to forego the blinding ritual if we provide them with an alternative way to keep control of the family’s side branch. Would that be within your capabilities?”

_Oh, how dare he?_

She was almost tempted to stand on her toes in a vain effort to seem taller. “Of course, Uchiha-dono.”


	17. Cage

_No matter how gilded a cage is, it is still a prison. Still, it is better than a prison made of thorns, darkness and hate, is it not?_

Mito disliked the Hyuuga clan head, although on surface she should have admired him.

Hyuuga Hideki was a perfect nobleman. His long, oiled hair was perfectly tied, his clothes were immaculate, his posture straight. The man embodied the simple perfection that all noble and high born aspired to have. And yet, she despised him. The slight upturn of his straight nose, the veiled derision in his pearly eyes, they grated on her nerves. This man was unlike the nobility she knew and had grown to emulate. He did not care for those less fortunate; he did not help others. He ordered, he sneered and— her hands fisted inside the kimono’s long sleeves— he blinded children.

“You will assist us in creating this seal, Lady Mito, however you will not be the one to place it. Such a task must and will be carried out by myself, as well as any alterations required,” stated Hideki. “Furthermore, any document you use to create the aforementioned seal will be destroyed.”

“Lord Hyuuga,” began Mito, the calm in her voice veiling the storm she felt brewing inside. “With all due respect, Uzumaki seals are different from any other. Our seals are tailored for our use. I can make the seal for you, and I can even cast a chakra mold which would aid you in placing further seals in the future, but any alterations made to it will have to be done by me.”

“Unacceptable.”

“As I explained, there is no way for you to alter the seal, Hyuuga-sama, due to the fact that you are not an Uzumaki and thus do not have the necessary chakra.”

Hideki smiled, an insipid gesture that curled his lip and narrowed his eyes. “Then, Lady Mito, you will change your way of sealing.”

“Impossible.”

“In that case, the arrangement falls. I will not lend my troops to incompetent allies and I will certainly not allow my clan to dwell in a village that claims safety and integration, but fails to cater to the needs of their citizens.”

She could swear that this was the opening he had been waiting for. Hyuuga Hideki never intended to join Konoha, never intended to help them out. Mito wanted to believe that they didn’t need the stuck-up man and his clan, but the truth was they did, desperately.

The quest of building a shinobi village had quickly morphed into the battle to subdue Fire Nation. There were those that wished to join other clans and make a peaceful alliance, and there were those against it. Peace was a difficult concept to grasp when one spent their life fighting. It was as such that they began a war of attrition, and they were currently on the losing side. Both Madara and Hashirama, two respective powerhouses for their clans and the alliance were powerless. Even their strength couldn’t feed the troops, or replace the steel needed to make more weapons. Something had to give, and soon. And if the Senju/Uchiha alliance fell, then Uzushio would soon follow.

An alliance with the Hyuuga was mandatory.

Mito could feel the noose tightening around her neck. She lifted her head, stormy grey eyes piercing Hyuuga Hideki’s pearly ones. “I will present you with a formula by this week’s end. We can then review the application together.”

“I shall accept this offer. Make sure to deliver, Lady Mito.”


	18. Gratitude

_I want to say that Hashirama was like an open book which you could open and immediately realize what it contained. At the tender age of fifteen, I thought so. And yet now I realize that I likely never knew him, not really. There was so much more beneath that first, or even beneath the second layer of his personality. So much more, and maybe so much less. I will never know and in a way I think he never wanted me to know._

_I sometimes wonder if Hashirama let him know…_

-Gratitude-

She stormed into the large meeting tent, disturbing what clearly looked like a tense discussion between Hashirama and his younger brother, Tobirama. The white-haired Senju straightened, his ever present scowl turning into an almost invisible line.

“Lady Mito,” said Tobirama in greeting, bowing slightly toward her and quickly exiting the tent.

“My brother believes it is unwise to involve you in all of this,” murmured Hashirama as soon as Tobirama’s chakra signature faded in the crowd of the campsite. “He is a traditionalist, thinking a woman’s role is… well, no matter.”

“And what do you think, Hashirama-dono?”

His fingers played with a small message with the Hyuuga seal upon it. No doubt, news of her agreement with Hyuuga Hideki reached him earlier than she did. Hashirama turned to look at her, the flickering light of candles playing over his warm, chocolate eyes.

“I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to us.”

There was something different in him, like someone had taken the foolish, exuberant man she had come to know and replaced him with this sober leader she had only seen glimpses of. How could a man’s personality be so fluid, like wind swishing through leaves, turning this way and that?

“Your gratitude is —”

“I know you didn’t do this for me,” he said, interrupting her polite reply. “You must think me a fool, but I am aware of the situation back in Uzushio. I am sure that, were the situation different, you would have continued on with your life on the island, away from this war, this camp…me.”

Mito’s heart constricted at that last, mournful word. This man was to be her husband, chosen or not. Was knowing that you are not chosen to be someone’s life partner just as painful as being unable to choose? She supposed such knowledge carried its own brand of pain. In that she could sympathize with him. Her features softened, a feeling of camaraderie blooming in her chest. Suddenly she wanted to be honest with him, to stop hiding behind her manners and words.

“Here we are, stranded in the same boat. Me unable to choose, and you not being chosen. How pitiful, the two of us.”

A shadow passed over Hashirama’s features, darkening them for a moment. Yet like a shifting breeze, the mood passed, his warm eyes flickering with gold in the candle’s light. “Must the lack of choice impact our future so much? I prefer to leave the past behind and look to the future, make my own happiness. Will you join me?”

His words made her feel bold, reckless. She should have ducked her head and give him a demure nod. That was what proper ladies did to their future husbands. But from the very beginning she did not feel inclined to act as such toward Hashirama. He was brash, had little to no sense of propriety, manners or any idea how to appropriately attach a suffix to one’s name. And yet, he was honest, kind and so hopeful that he inspired everyone around him.

“Join as your wife, or as a fellow partner in the creation of this village?” she asked, her chin lifting up in defiance.

Hashirama smiled, a disarming sort of grin that lit up the room. “As whatever you want to be.” His grin fell abruptly. “I may be your future husband, Mito-chan, but I am not your jailor. You can be whoever you want, do whatever pleases your heart. And if you decide to offer something in return, I will take whatever you give me.”

Warmth bloomed in her heart and cheeks, leaving Mito both happy and conflicted, her eyes lowering in gratitude.


	19. Sacrifice

_The life of a shinobi is one of taking. They take the lives of others, while others take the lives of their loved ones, their own… they take money for missions, take missions for money so they can take lives. And then, there was Konoha. It started as a dream that gave two broken men a reason to live. And then it gave people a place to call home, gave children a chance at life, gave small clans a chance to survive. It was then that the shinobi world started giving._

-Sacrifice-

“I know you are out there, Madara-dono. I can sense your chakra.”

Madara stepped inside her tent, taking in the numerous scrolls spread all over the floor. “I wanted to thank you personally.”

She turned to look at him, her beautiful face shadowed with fatigue. _Did she work the entire night?_

“Hashirama-dono has already expressed his gratitude,” she said waspishly.

He should have left it at that. Turn around, and leave her alone to work, or sleep. She needed to sleep. She was tired and snappy, like a crackling flame.

Uchiha had never been afraid of fire.

“I am aware of that, and—”

“Madara-dono, say what you have to say. Let us not dance around our words. I think we are past that.”

Definitely snappy.

“I am not ignorant, Lady Mito. I know what you are offering for this to work and I am deeply grateful. You are the key to win the Hyuuga and dare I say, this war. I appreciate your sacrifice.”

He could see the anger cracking like a brittle armor, falling off in bits and pieces. Beneath it she looked weary, sad, resigned.

“What know you of sacrifice?” she asked with bottomless eyes of storm.

“More than you’d think,” he confessed, images of a long gone family and smiling siblings flooding his mind. “I gave everything to this war. My family, my pride, my sanity…”

She gazed at him mournfully. “I must sound like a spoiled child to you. In some ways, I am. Tell me, Madara-dono, do you hate me?”

He almost laughed at the irony of her question, how similar her gaze and tone were to the pensive words Hashirama uttered mere days ago. Curse them both, how similar they were, pulling at him in opposite directions. Or maybe it was he who grabbed onto them.

“Would I be here if I did?” he asked, mirroring his question to Hashirama.

Mito gazed thoughtfully at him, her stormy ocean eyes pulling at him like a treacherous current. “I am sorry for your loss,” she finally whispered, the air between them heavy.

He shifted in place, surprised by the sincerity of her voice. People died in their world, children took up arms and died before they even knew the taste of sake or the softness of another’s kiss. He had been four when he first killed another. A nameless Senju that likely had children at home, or on the battlefield. No one had time to apologize, to cry for the deaths of too many brothers, fathers, uncles, mothers. No one felt sorry for another person, for they had their own dead to bury and mourn. Izuna’s easy smile and twinkling eyes came unbidden to him, the gut-wrenching pain accompanying the memory seizing him in a vice-like grip.

“I will end this war,” she said, hurling him out of his pit of despair. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain, and neither will mine, as small as it is.”

She shone with determination, bright as a forest fire, sure as the coming tide. It washed over him, wild, warm and sobering. This slip of a noble girl promised what two joined clans failed to achieve, and beyond all rational thought, Madara believed her.

_Darling Mito, you are more like Hashirama than you think._


	20. Picture

_ Love takes many forms, some wonderful, some horrible. It makes us be better, but it also makes us sacrifice everything in its name. It makes some hoard their loved ones with fierce possessiveness, while in others it might spark a selflessness bordering on sacrifice. _

_ I always considered the love for my country to trump everything else. Now, I’m not so sure. _

-Picture-

Mito observed the two men before her. She was tired. After days of working on the  Hyuuga seal , she’d finally had a breakthrough, the adrenaline which had previously fueled her draining away.  Now, she carefully looked at them. How they spoke, how they moved around each other, how their chakra intermingled. They were one, a whole split in two parts and shoved into a mortal body— Yin and Yang, circling each other in a perpetual dance. 

They were in the large tent reserved for war meetings, with  Hashirama in  Madara descending into a strategy-related conversation after she reported her success with the seal. Mito sat in a chair, her energy spent  while the two men before her lit up the room with the force of their chakra. They were excited, happy at the prospect of progress.  And then, there was more. 

With tired eyes Mito studied their gestures and saw in them love, hatred, longing. The brush of a hand, a gaze when the other was not looking, shared smiles and a smoldering interplay of chakra she was more than sure they were unaware of, all mingling to paint a peculiar picture. As her eyes dropped closed Mito wondered, where did she fit in that picture?


	21. Magnetic

_I’m not sure when the shift happened, when I started seeing him as a man and not a warrior or leader. It was a gradual thing moving in increments inside my mind and then at one point, I knew._

“I’ll miss you,” said Hashirama, his voice pitched low. “I got used to having you so close, to see you and hear you every day.”

She shivered despite herself, the husky voice, warm eyes and much to close presence overwhelming her senses. Mito took a step back, her eyes demurely adverted. “You shall forget of me soon, Hashirama-dono. There is much work to do, and little time to think of personal matters.”

“I will always make time to think of you, Mito-chan. It will be so lonely here without you.”

“Luckily, Madara-dono is here to keep you company,” she said with a sly smirk, her eyes trailing to the sullen figure behind Hashirama.

“A poor substitute, I assure you.”

Mito chuckled, the sound warm in her chest. Hashirama was slowly showing her more and more sides of himself, a glimpse behind the silly, overenthusiastic veneer. Mito couldn’t help but push back. “Oh, I am unsure of that assessment. I am sure Madara-dono will do his very best to stave off your loneliness.” She smiled at her own bold remark, her eyes glinting with triumph at the blush blooming across Hashirama’s cheeks.

“As entertaining as your flirting is, I believe you have a schedule to keep, Lady Mito.”

It was Mito’s turn to flush at Madara’s clipped words.

“Oh come now Madara, don’t be a sourpuss. You get to have Mito-chan all the way back to Uzushio, let me get my share!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am sorry for the slow updates on this one. I am currently focusing on finishing Book 1 of Pain and Hope (my other fic) and that takes all my energy since it's a dark and very emotional end.   
> So again, I apologize for the slow updates. It will hopefully pick up in the future as inspiration strikes.


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